


For the Boy left behind

by yourestuckinmyhead



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drabble, Kinda, basically the epilogue, more like a eulogy, more like an ode, raven king spoilers, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 07:20:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourestuckinmyhead/pseuds/yourestuckinmyhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Depending on when you start the story, it’s about a death.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>**************RAVEN KING SPOILERS**************</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Boy left behind

**Author's Note:**

> **************RAVEN KING SPOILERS**************

Depending on when you start the story, it’s about a death.

 

Normally, when it comes to beginnings, people focus on life. On birth. On _re-_ birth. But that story has been done, gone and told. _Over and Over and Over_ because time, as we all know, is circular.

 

But this story, _this one_ , is because a young boy with too much life died when he shouldn’t have. This story is about a boy with the name of Noah Czerny who had his head bashed in by his best friend, and his story that should have ended there but didn’t.

 

Because he died on a ley line. Because time is circular. Because Noah Czerny is remembered.

 

_Murdered Murdered Murdered._

 

So much more than that.

 

He started this story, ended it, created it. He _was_ it, in the way that _you_ and _me_ makes _we,_ in the way that branches and leaves shake because they have a trunk and roots, in the way that friends are what make friendships.

 

Noah Czerny was dead, but that didn’t make him any less important. It didn’t make him any less of a friend. He wasn’t any less real, any less real than anything and everything is _real._

 

He was a boy who drank his mother’s peppermint schnapps, drove a red mustang, and liked Blink-182, who stood on tables, trusted too much, and didn’t get enough time.

 

He was a boy who dreamed of ravens; flying, flying, fighting. A boy who dreamed of living and while he was living he dreamed.

 

Before everything. Before welsh kings, dreamers, magicians, and mirrors. Before death and life, dreams and reality, future and past, before they were all the same.

 

Before a boy was still a boy, and after when he was still a boy but less, but more, but different.

 

He was real, is real, will be real. Remember, _time is circular_.

 

Remember, he was the one who breathed life into a boy with his death, who started the quest for a sleeping king, _you live because of glendower._

 

Don’t throw it away.

 

(Don’t throw him away.)

 

Because time is circular.

 

He didn’t always know when, where, he was. Time moved around him, or maybe it was he who moved through the time. It doesn’t, didn’t, won’t matter.

 

Time is circular.

 

Noah Czerny wanted to be remembered.

 

Noah Czerny was dead.

 

And time, time kept slipping slipping slipping around and through him and he had nothing to hold onto.

 

Time is circular.

 

Eventually, Noah Czerny slipped out of time. Softly, quietly, peacefully. Noah Czerny drifted away.

 

Noah Czerny was remembered, but not completely. He was remembered in the spaces between present and gone. Here and not-here.

 

The space he once filled was forgotten that it was empty, that there used to be something filling its place.

 

Noah Czerny was gone.

 

His memory embedded in not quite silence, hidden inside the skin of trees, among the spins of long kept journals.

 

His friends, the ones who loved him. They missed him, but they couldn’t quite remember who it was they were missing.

 

They knew him in the way someone knows home. A feeling, a sense of rightness.

 

They knew him because that feeling was gone. As Noah was gone.

 

Noah was, is, will be, gone.

 

And that’s where the story ends.

 

A different sort of beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me come cry lets cry awayyyyy.
> 
> Get it. It's a joke. A play on Come Fly With Me? Yeah I know I'm not funny, but whatever I just finished The Raven King and now I have nothing to do but defenestrate myself.
> 
> Yet at me on tumblr insertcaffinehere.tumblr.com
> 
> Sorry this sucks, I had *feelings* and therefore wrote said feelings down without editing them and yeah, the mess you see before you is the result. You're welcome.


End file.
